


Birthrights

by crimsonred (colourmeblack)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, Parenting went wrong, but not really?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 18:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20953286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourmeblack/pseuds/crimsonred
Summary: He was five when he started noticing the pitiful glances thrown his way by his father's friends.





	Birthrights

He was five when he started noticing the pitiful glances thrown his way by his father's friends. The looks confused him, and his father refused to answer his questions about those people, diverting his attention to his new wooden sword instead. As the firstborn, he needs to start training from an early age, his old man had said. But when he asked for a lance to train with, because he had watched his father wield one from his earliest memories, his request was met with silence and a cold stare.

He was six when the news of his mother's pregnancy broke. There were whispers of gossips everywhere, even between the maids who tended to him, fully ignoring the way his wet nurse-turned-caretaker had shushed them. He shrugs, his simple six-year-old mind too busy watching Gautier soldiers at the training ground. He sat by the windowsill, eyes glued to the way the knights spar in pairs, swords against lances, lances against axes, axes against swords. The next day he took a training lance in hand and asked his instructor to teach him how to wield it, saying his father wanted him to learn other weapons as well.

He was seven when his sibling was born. A boy, the whispers had gotten louder. Maids and nurses and many other important-looking people were rushing in and out of his mother's quarter in hurried steps. He wanted to know if his mother was okay, because he missed her and he had yet to show her the newest book he had finished reading, so he sneaked inside when everyone was too busy to pay attention to their surrounding. And there they were--his mother, looking exhausted, her handmaids tending to her; his father, standing by a bassinet, face pinched into a frown; another man he didn't recognize by his father's side, holding an unfamiliar, creepy device in his hand. The man glanced at his father, who gestured at the bassinet, then the stranger turned his attention fully at whatever was inside. The maybe-father's-friend moved his hands inside, a cry was heard (was it his brother, maybe?), and a faint glow was cast in the room the same time a maid caught sight of him. The last thing he saw while being escorted out of the quarter was the relieved smile on his old man's face.

He was eight when he realized his parents' attention had been fully diverted to his brother. Though his old caretaker tried to comfort him by saying that his parents were acting like that because his brother was still so small to be left alone, he couldn't help but feel... left out. The first thing his father asked for when he got home was always his little brother. Gone were his father's tales of his travels, even when he always made sure to be the first person to greet him by the door. His mother rarely spared her time to read with him, like how they used to spend afternoons before and during her pregnancy. Dinners were cut short before he got the chance to recount his daily adventures to his parents. Daily bedtime stories became sparse and he eventually taught himself to fall asleep without a voice to lull him with stories of shining knights protecting prince and princesses or soft lullabies. And when loneliness crept to him late at night, he succumbed to the cold, slimy hands slowly wrapping around his limbs and pulling him to drown in freezing water, colder than the pond near their estate in winter, no escape in sight.

He was nine when he learnt that his brother, seven years younger _with a crest_, had inherited his rights and title as the heir to House Gautier.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Jealousy between ~normal~ siblings can get vicious, so won't it get worse if inheritance and bloodlines also come into play?
> 
> Anyway, I've tried looking and still couldn't find the definite age difference between Miklan and Sylvain so I took a wild guess. Ha. So if the well incidence happened when Sylvain was around five, then Miklan would be twelve. The harsh years would be enough for the older Gautier son to grow to hate his brother, despite his young(ish) age. I mean, IRL, younger kids bully their weaker classmates, though not to the extent of shoving them into a well.  
(at least that's what happened during my elementary school days, which came to a close almost twelve years ago. Was neither the bully nor the victim, but it happened to a friend and I won't deny the fact)
> 
> (also can be found as @nottrashe on twitter come say hi if you want I dont bite)


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